


Push

by Deputychairman



Series: Straight but even [2]
Category: Canadian Actor RPF
Genre: Multi, Phone Sex, Threesome, and refer you to the photoshoot in question, once again I can only apologise, the purple couch of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deputychairman/pseuds/Deputychairman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the dumbest photoshoot he’d ever done in his <em>life</em>, and he’d done some pretty dumb photoshoots so that was really saying something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt) in the [DS_C6D_Prompt_Meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DS_C6D_Prompt_Meme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (Because my last RPF prompt went so well...)
> 
> There was this [ comment thread over at the C6D AU challenge](http://alternate-ds-c6d.dreamwidth.org/12211.html?view=120755&posted=1#cmt120755) about what might have been going on at the photoshoot when they took That Picture of CKR lounging on a purple couch in a pin-up pose.... Clearly we need a fic to tell us how it *really* went down.
> 
> \- Follows on from my fill to that last RPF prompt (now part 1 of the Straight but even series): if you're reading this one, you may as well start with that I mean you're going to Special Hell anyway, why not read your RPF in the right order?

 

* * *

 

It was the dumbest photoshoot he’d ever done in his _life_ , and he’d done some pretty dumb photoshoots so that was really saying something.

Starting with the first due South promo shoot, at fuck off o’clock in the morning. That one had had him and Paul nose to nose to get them both in the frame and it ended up looking – well, Callum didn’t normally get that much up in someone’s personal space unless he was sleeping with them, was all. But the photographer and the publicity people and everyone else including Paul seemed to think it looked just fine, so fine – he wasn’t gonna get defensive about it. If they wanted to promote the show with pictures of him and Paul about to make out, he didn’t have a problem with that.

 

He didn’t have a problem with this one either, but it was so dumb he was having trouble keeping a straight face. Paul wasn’t helping either – Paul never helped with shit like this. Paul would always look him right in the eyes while they posed, like how Fraser looked at Ray, and it was – it was – it was _distracting_ , was what it was. Because you were in costume, sure, but promo shoots were just standing there how they put you: you didn’t have to say anything or do anything, so Paul looking at him like he was half in character and half not – he didn’t know what to do with that.

So Callum hadn’t done anything with it. Maybe he was seeing things that weren’t there - he could admit he was maybe lonely, sometimes. Sometimes you saw what you wanted to see. Just because it had happened two times before, didn’t mean it was going to happen again. Those two times wouldn’t have happened if Martha hadn’t been there to make them happen. He wasn’t quite sure what the rules were here – and ok, maybe it would be smart to ask, but how exactly did you go about starting a conversation like that? _Hey Paul, you got the schedule for the European publicity tour, and by the way, can we only fuck if your wife joins in?_

 

This shoot though – he hadn’t expected this shit from the _British_. If this was what they were gonna be like, maybe he would give them back that passport he still had in a drawer somewhere, on account of him and his parents being born here. If this was a country that thought a couch like that was an ok prop for a photoshoot that wasn’t _porn_ , then this was a country he wanted nothing to do with any more. These people were meant to be _repressed_ , or something, and not laying Paul out in front of him like that and coaxing him to make  - well Jesus, call it what it was - that was a fuck me face.

Not like Paul really needed coaxing. He was goofing around and he looked pretty fucking stupid, to be honest, but also like he was totally gagging for it at the same time. Like acting and not acting at the same time. Looking deliberately slutty in front of everyone, to cover up that he was actually _genuinely_ slutty. That he got on his knees and sucked cock with a grin on his face like he loved it.

Although, looking at him right now – and everyone in the damn room was looking at him, that was for sure – maybe that cover wasn’t working so good. Paul was doing that thing he always did, showing off and being unselfconscious and charming and ridiculous in a way that just swept you along with him. Usually that kind of undentable self-confidence was fucking obnoxious, but it was like Paul had some gravitational pull that sucked you in despite all your better judgement. Or maybe he was just _that_ pretty he could get away with anything.

 

Right now, he was getting away with hamming it up. They’d done some normal shots, the two of them shoulder to shoulder, sitting up, fine. Sitting up on a weird purple velvet couch, but otherwise fine.

Jesus Christ what was Paul doing _now_? Stretched out on his belly, smouldering at the photographer, and Callum was torn between wanting to laugh at him and wanting to do him. Not like he _could_ , but it would be nice to know just in his own mind which of those things he wanted to do.

Both, probably. Yeah. Probably both.

 

 

Paul was licking his lips and pouting, shooting a look at Callum then asking the photographer,

“What, more? Hell yeah, I can give it more!”

Like he didn’t care about being taken seriously, when Callum knew for a fact that he did.

Like he wanted Callum to _push_ , just to see what would happen.

 

 

He wasn’t just seeing things. That _was_ a fuck me face, and Paul wasn’t just making it at the camera. Callum was sure about that because when they got _him_ to sit on the stupid purple velvet fucking couch, Paul was _still_ looking at him like that and the camera wasn’t even on Paul any more.

Maybe Callum liked Paul looking at him like that, but he tried to make his face say that he didn’t care.

Maybe it would have worked, if they’d just let him sit there like a normal person. But no, these were not British people like he knew: these were depraved British people, getting him to lie back like he was offering something he wasn't sure he wanted to offer, while Paul stood there _watching_ and _looking_ at him. So ok, fine, it was stupid, but if this was what they all wanted, he could do this. It had fuck all to do with the show, that was for sure – he’d had his doubts before he took the job, Paul knew he’d had his doubts, and he would have run a mile from anything with high camp porno couches in it.

 

But now there was Paul, grinning at the photographer and joking with the stylist and Callum felt like an idiot every time Paul stopped looking at him.

So, ok. He’d played along, and that was enough. He sat up abruptly.

“We’re done, right?”

“No!” called out a chorus of voices he couldn’t see behind the lights.

“Yeah, but you got what you need here, you don’t need me for this bit, you want the Mountie doing all the – you know…”

He ducked his head, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and let a bit of the discomfort show – because if Paul could hide real slutty behind public slutty, Callum could hide real discomfort behind public discomfort, right? That was how it worked.

 

People were coming towards him, trying to get him back on the couch. The makeup girl was waving a brush in his face and the shoot director was apologising and saying, “Just another couple of minutes, it won’t take long…”

And then Paul, _fucking_ Paul, was there too. Smirking at him and actually goddam pushing him back down, both hands on his arms, _daring_ him to say no and make a big deal out of it when it was all part of the job, right? You did a show, you did the publicity for a show, you went home. End of story.

Only you didn’t usually get spread out on a porno couch by your co-star who also happened to be the executive producer who also happened to have sucked you off because his wife told him to.

 

Maybe the shock of the weird was what made him go along with it, because 30 seconds later he was flat on his back again, looking up at Paul.

“No one’s going to make a casting couch joke, I promise,” Paul grinned.

Yeah, sure.

Because Paul had cast Callum. In a bar, and they’d tossed a coin for it, and there hadn’t been any casting couch. But he hadn’t missed how Paul looked at him, even then.

Callum flipped him the finger.

 

 

If there was one thing Callum was good at, it was being looked at. But that was when he was being someone else. Being looked at when he was _him_ was totally different. And now they all knew he wanted it over, the publicist and the makeup girl and the photographer and the UK promoter and the magazine photo editor and whoever else they seemed to need just to take a picture of a Canadian actor on nasty furniture were all hovering just out of shot, looking at him.

Only he hardly noticed them.

Because Paul, _fucking_ Paul, was egging him on. Pushing.

“Cal, what about your glasses? Can we get the glasses in? The glasses are hot, you know.”

No, the glasses weren’t hot, but everyone else agreed with Paul so what the fuck, get the glasses in the shot.

“Hey, now your shirt’s ridden up, that looks good – can we show skin in this magazine?”

That made them all laugh and Callum could have tugged his shirt back down then. But Paul was saying,

“What? I’m happily married, but if you’re gonna pretend you haven’t noticed him then I think we need a different marketing team for this show…”

Happily married. Yeah. The worst thing was, that was actually true.

Callum met his eye and didn’t pull his shirt back down.

 

He let his hand rest on his chest but when everyone but Paul was distracted for a second he made a fist and sketched a quick _jerkoff_ at him, and Paul licked his lips like it was a _promise_ rather than an insult.

 

*

 

The last couple minutes were a blur of lights and instructions and shutters clicking and trying not to let his hard on show as he stood up.

 

 

And then finally they were out of there, in a taxi, and there wasn’t any question where they were going. They were going straight back to the hotel.

They were going straight back to the hotel, and then Callum was going to straight to his room to jerk off, and Paul was probably going to have phone sex with his _wife_. Because Martha wasn’t here, Martha was the wrong side of the Atlantic and he hadn’t asked because he didn’t _need_ to ask. This happened with her or not at all, so it was going to have to be not at all.

 

 

But as they collected their keys Paul turned to him.

“Come to my room. I’ve got to call Martha.” His voice was rough and low and the heat in his eyes went right to Callum’s cock.

“ _What?_ ” he managed.

“Well, wait for me here if you want, but I’ve got to call her.” Then Paul narrowed his eyes and let his gaze drop to Callum’s crotch where his erection _had_ to be showing. “Or don’t, if you don’t want to…”

“Oh _fuck_ you, Paul, you are _such_ a dick.”

And Paul grinned at him, that cocky golden-boy smile he knew Callum couldn’t resist, and Callum followed him into the lift and all the way up to his room.

 

A nice hotel room is still a hotel room. Where you’re away from home and the rules are different, and no one ever needs to know what you do.

They looked at each other as the door closed behind Callum. For a second neither of them spoke and neither of them moved.

 

Until Callum couldn’t wait any more and leaned in.

 

He was surprised how tentatively Paul kissed back, like he was asking a question and suddenly wasn’t sure of the answer. So Callum had to give him an answer – kiss him harder, show him he wanted this. Lean in further so Paul’s back was up against the wall.

Callum turned the kiss deeper and messier, walking them across the room to the bed in a fog of lust, all the teasing and the pushing and the looking suddenly catching fire now he had Paul alone in a hotel room. He needed it _now_ , Paul had been leading them here all day and now he wanted to go slow? Callum didn’t need anybody’s permission to do anything, _he_ wasn’t married.

 

Paul let him do it, let Callum push him down on his back and rub against him, desperate for him.

But after a second he went still, because it wasn’t really Callum’s answer they needed here, and they both knew it.

 

“Cal, I have to…” Paul panted under him. 

He pulled back from the kiss and Paul was hot-eyed and dishevelled beneath him, none of the clean-living Mountie he could put on and off for the publicity. It took a while to sink in that his arms were braced on Callum’s shoulders: not pushing him off, but not letting him any closer.

For a second he wanted it so bad he almost pushed. Paul was stronger than him and heavier than him but if he pushed, he thought Paul might just let him.

Except did he really want it to go that way? To go after something so hard it broke everything? It was only a split second of Paul looking up at him, waiting to be let up when he could so easily shove Callum off but he didn’t think he needed to, and he knew this wasn’t a thing he could stand to break.

He took a deep shaky breath and rolled off.

“Yeah. Sorry. Call her,” he said, sitting up and scrubbing his hand across his face.

As Paul reached for the phone he added, “And if she doesn’t pick up, I am jerking off right here, ok?”

“I’ll fucking join you,” Paul all but growled as he punched in the number.

 

 

Martha picked up right away, like she was just waiting for them to call.

Paul said, “Hi,” and he didn’t turn away from Callum. He wasn’t trying hide being all hot and good to go, but something in his voice was just for Martha.

Callum was close enough to hear her say, “Hi to you too. Is this what it sounds like?” They’d been married for 10 years, of course she knew what it meant when Paul sounded like _that._

“Only if you say it can be.”

“Oh, I do say it can be! The kids are at school, and I was just wondering what you were doing. Where are you?” She didn’t even need to ask who he was with.                      

“At the hotel. We’re in my room.”

“Oh really? Sure you haven’t started without me?”

“I told you I wouldn’t.”

Paul glanced over at him. There was still want in his eyes, but his voice had gone serious, saying that to Martha. _Maybe he won’t let you, even if you push._ There was something reassuring about that.

Martha said something he didn’t catch and Paul gave a soft crooked smile into the phone as if she could actually see him.

Then Callum heard her say, “So give the phone to Callum and get undressed. I want to listen while you do him.”

 

He took the phone when Paul held it out, but stopped him getting up with a hand on his thigh.

“Uh, hi, Martha.” Should he ask how she was? How their kids were doing? Christ what was he _doing_ here, in the middle of these two?

“Hi Callum! Are you on the bed?” Ok fine, so they weren’t making small talk here.

“Yeah.”

Paul was reaching for his belt, but when Callum said, “But look, this time I wanna suck him. Can I do that?” he went very very still.

 

There was a tiny silence down the phone.

“Yeah, I think he’d like that,” Martha said slowly. She sounded like _she’d_ like that too. “Put him back on then. And get him to make noise, so I can hear, ok? Can you do that? Make it really good, so he can’t help it?”

Paul looked right at him as he took the receiver back and just the fucking eye contact sent a spark of desire through him so strong his cock twitched. Paul was lying back on the pillows and Callum followed him down, gave him the dirtiest kiss he could manage, pressing his head back and making him open for it. Callum came down on top of him, letting all his weight rest on Paul: Paul could take it.

“Keep hold of the phone and put your other hand on the headboard,” Martha said and Paul groaned and did it, no hesitation. She wasn’t even here and she was getting him hotter than Callum was.

 

He moaned again when Callum slid down his body and rubbed the thick length of his erection through his jeans.

And when Callum unzipped him and wrapped his hand around his cock, Paul groaned again and thrust up into his fist like he couldn’t wait any longer.

Callum couldn’t wait any longer either. He’d never gotten to really touch Paul before – he’d been the one just taking it while that smart mouth took him apart and he didn’t get to do anything back. This, though – this was different. Now it was him on his knees, in between Paul’s spread legs, leaning down to take Paul’s cock into his mouth.

Paul wasn’t holding anything back. He moaned, “Oh fuck…” as Callum started sucking him off, deep and slow, right to the back of his throat, taking all of his cock and letting him rock up to get more.

It was safer for everyone like this. Paul was talking and making these little desperate noises, but Callum couldn’t say anything stupid. Maybe it felt like they ought to be able to, but no one could actually read your mind through how you sucked cock. You could give it everything and get away with it, so long as you didn’t actually say anything. Callum had always liked that about giving head.

Paul gasped and said, “Yeah, _yeah_ , I’ll - ” and he was talking to Martha, Callum was on his fucking knees here and the bastard was talking to _Martha_.

“She says put – you should put - ” Callum flicked his tongue and Paul broke off, panting. “She says put your fingers in me.”

The dark shock of want that flared in his belly took him by surprise. Paul’s voice hoarse, telling him to do that – he froze with Paul’s cock deep in his mouth, willing himself not to come in his pants.

He pulled back and looked at Paul. Paul nodded at him and from somewhere he managed to get that cocky grin back on his face.

Yeah, he could take it alright.

Callum sucked on his fingers, letting Paul see him do it, making a show of it – Paul always looked at his hands, he knew that. Then he didn’t wait, he leaned back in, swallowed his cock back down and pressed his fingers inside and Paul cried out and arched his back and went crazy. Thrusting up into his mouth and back onto his fingers – fuck he loved it, he must have done this before, there was no straight-boy panic here, he was fucking himself on Callum’s fingers.

“Harder,” he managed, and Callum didn’t know if that was Paul or Martha asking but he did it anyway, thrusting in deeper.

And Paul said, “More,” in a beautiful broken voice and came in his mouth with no warning at all.

 

Paul had swallowed so Callum did too. He could say that was why. That sounded convincing.

 

He sat back on his heels and couldn’t look at Paul for a second. But Paul shifted, closing his knees around Callum like he was hugging him with his legs so then he had to.

 

He hadn’t moved. His eyes were closed and he still had one hand on the headboard, the phone in the other. Callum could hear Martha’s voice murmuring to Paul but couldn’t make out the words. Whatever she said made him smile, and reply, “Yeah, me too.”

Callum didn’t catch what she said next either, but Paul opened his eyes and looked up at him, face relaxed and open.

“I think he’d be interested,” he replied. His voice was lazy and sated and made Callum want _everything_.

“Interested in what?” he asked.

“You talk to her. She’s asking if you want to fuck me.”

 

Paul held the phone out and Callum almost dropped it.

 

“Callum?” said Martha when he fumbled it to his ear.

“Yeah.” His voice came out rough, desperate sounding. Giving everything away. He _knew_ he shouldn’t talk.

“Would you like that? He hasn’t done it in a long time, but he likes it. I’d like it too.”

“Uh.” He watched Paul’s face, looking for a clue to know how to answer. This was too much, wasn’t it? A blowjob is a blowjob whoever’s giving it, but there’s no going back from taking it up the ass. Jesus, he’d thought _he_ was pushing, but Martha had just blown him out of the water here.

Paul was watching him back. Like he could read what Callum was thinking, his hand came down off the headboard and he sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head, untangled his jeans where they were stuck on one ankle and lay face down next to Callum.

“Callum?” Martha asked.

“Paul, you sure about this?”

“You heard the lady,” he said.

“Yeah, just a – Martha, hang on – I heard her, I wanna hear it from _you_ , ok?”

“What, you think you’re too much for me? I think I can take it.”

“Jesus, Paul, what is wrong with you? You can’t just say, yeah that’d be great, let’s do that, I’d like to?”

Paul was grinning at him again, like the whole thing was a joke and he wasn’t lying there naked offering Callum his ass.

Loud enough for Martha to hear. Paul said, “Martha, he wants to. He just doesn’t want to _say_ he wants to.”

“Callum, tell him to shut up. It’s only if you want to, ok? Don’t let him push you into it if you think it’d be weird…”

He couldn’t help the bark of hysterical half laughter that escaped him at that. Of _course_ it would be weird, it was already weird! By any definition going this was weird. But apparently his dick didn’t care about that. His dick wanted what they were offering, weird or not.

And Paul was still watching him. Paul knew he wanted it.

“Vaseline in the nightstand,” he smirked with a face that said _you can’t resist me, I’m watching you try and you can’t do it_.

“Shut up, darling,” Martha said down the phone, even though he couldn’t hear her. “Callum?”

“Yeah. Ok,” he rasped.

“Oh that’s great!” Martha sounded like she really meant it. “Are you still dressed? Get undressed…”

“Unless you just wanna hold hands first,” Paul put in.

“Seriously, fuck you, Paul.”

“That’s the general idea, but only if you think you can _take_ it…”

“I think you should give it to him hard,” Martha said consideringly and he couldn’t help but agree. This was his way of _asking_ Callum to give it to him hard. “Put the phone on speaker, he’ll need both his hands to brace himself.” The thought of that was almost enough to send him over the edge before they’d even started.

“She says you’ll need both hands to brace yourself,” Callum reported, just to see if Paul would react. “Can you put this on speaker?”

He just quirked his eyebrows and blew Callum a kiss. He’d never seen anybody so goddam smug about getting fucked before, and it wasn’t so much flattering as _provocative._

“Fuck, we need a PA here…” Paul muttered, grabbing the phone and scowling at it as he tried to find the speaker. “There. Martha?”

“Yeah, I can hear you.” Her voice was a little distorted by the loudspeaker but she was there with both of them at once like this. And she could hear both of them at once. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.

 

For a second there was something almost clinical about it, pulling his clothes off while they waited for him. He was half expecting Martha to countdown to lift off but she was silent as he settled back down on top of Paul, making him gasp.

“You really sure about this?” he couldn’t help whispering, and maybe Paul could feel him having doubts, losing his nerve, because he just said, “Yeah,” in a low rough voice that was just _begging_ to get fucked.

So Callum had to fuck him. He opened him up with his fingers – there _was_ Vaseline in the nightstand, and he used most of it, just to be sure, really taking his time. After a minute Paul came up on his knees without him having to ask, and that was good because he didn’t trust his voice. He wasn’t sure he wanted either of them to hear him right now.

“I think he’s ready, Cal…” Martha said softly. But she wasn’t there, she couldn’t see him, how did she _know_? She could also read Callum’s mind, because she added, “Listen to him…” and yeah, Paul was kinda losing it here with Callum’s fingers stretching him and rubbing against his sweet spot, moaning and panting like he was getting ready to come all over again. Callum hadn’t done this is a while either, but he’d always been good with his hands.

He had to make sure though.

“Paul? You ready?”

Paul opened his eyes and he looked _wrecked_ , undone, completely lost in it. Christ that was a turn-on – knocking all the cocky out of him, just with his fingers? Paul nodded against the pillow and Callum had to believe him, he just had to because he couldn’t wait any more.

When he sank all the way in to all that beautiful tight heat he had to stop and hold still just to keep it together long enough to actually say he’d fucked him. Paul was still under him, breathing fast and shallow, and then he shifted slightly and made a sound that might have been pleasure or it might have been pain.

Martha’s voice said, “Paul?” There was concern in her voice and Callum was suddenly afraid she was going to tell him to stop.

“Mm,” Paul managed, too far gone for words. Then he dredged up, “M’good. Don’t stop.”

So Callum didn’t stop. Callum fucked him, gave it to him hard like he was supposed to, and Paul braced himself on both hands and took it, and took it, and kept taking it.

He kept his face turned to the side like he knew Callum needed to see him, needed to see that dazed open-mouthed pleasure to be sure he hadn’t crossed a line. Martha couldn’t see him, but he was making the kind of noises that couldn’t leave her in any doubt Callum was making it good for him.

He’d thought it was too soon but apparently Paul really _did_ like this, because just when Callum was about to lose it he gave a hoarse cry and thrust back and Callum could feel him coming, again, ass clenching hard around his cock, and that was enough to send him over the edge too, pleasure shooting up his spine and down every nerve until he collapsed against Paul’s back, shaking with the force of it.

 

He didn’t know what to say to either of them so he just lay there for a while, face mashed up against Paul’s back. Maybe Paul would mock him if he said it but it didn’t feel like this was just about the fucking. So did what he wanted and pressed open-mouthed kisses into the soft skin between Paul’s shoulder blades, and Paul let him.

After a second he pulled out and rolled off.

 

When he sat up at last Paul had taken the phone off loudspeaker and had the receiver pressed somewhere near his ear.

He wasn’t really talking, just making low contented noises to whatever Martha was saying to him. He was still smiling, so he was probably ok.

That didn’t mean he wanted Callum hanging around right now though.

 

Paul reached out for him when he stood up.

He mumbled something that might have been, “Don’t go.” Or it might have been “Don’t be a dick.” Don’t something, anyway.

Either way, he seemed to want Callum to stay where he was.

 

And this was his whole problem with Paul, in the end. He couldn’t resist when Paul wanted something from him. He came back to the edge of the bed and let Paul pull him down again and drape a strong arm over his chest.

There was a fumble of buttons behind his head and then he could hear Martha over the speakerphone again.

“Cal?”

“He’s here. We’re _cuddling_.” Callum would have jabbed him in the ribs if he’d had the energy, but he didn’t so he didn’t. But he thought it pretty hard and Paul probably knew that.

“Cal, will you do that again for me, so I can see, when you get back?” Her voice was soft and intimate in his ear, like they were all in this together.

When he didn’t reply right away she said hesitantly, “At least think about it?” so then he had to answer.

Because maybe _cuddling_ wasn’t the word for it, but he was lying there next to her husband, and she’d just given him something he really wanted.  She was trusting him not to take too much. So if there was something she wanted from him, it seemed only fair to push past the weird and let her have it.

“No, yeah,” he managed. “I’d like – that’d be – course I will, if you want.”

“You just want my ass again,” Paul drawled at his side, and this time Callum did find the strength to elbow him in the ribs.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely nothing to say in my defence. I'll just - I'll just go now, ok?


End file.
